Dear Diary
by SourCherryBlossom
Summary: One-shot. AU, set after my fic "The Letter". Franny Mathison's diary entry from age 12.


Dear Diary,

My name is Frances Anne Mathison, and I'm twelve years old. I am a seventh grader at Thoreau Middle school in Vienna, Virginia. I'm in the advanced reading group for Mr. Rodriguez' classroom and he said that anyone who kept a diary this semester would get extra credit. I really want an "A", and since I didn't do very well on that last book report, (Ha Ha Mr. R. I didn't like "Great Expectations", sorry, no matter what my Dad said,) then I will give this a try. This is my first diary, so hello, dear diary and I hope you will keep all my secrets. Mr. R promised to check that we wrote, but not to read it. I trust him, it's funny to trust a teacher. But he's cool, and smart, and everybody likes him.

Today is January 12, 2025. I live in Vienna, Virginia, with my Mom, Carrie Mathison, and my Dad, Peter Quinn, and our dog Morrigan. Plus I have a beta fish, Cartman. But he doesn't do much since he's the only beta fish in the house, lol.

Morrigan is a German Shepherd, and she's supposed to be a really good guard dog. I guess she is, because Dad bought her from someplace that all they do is raise guard dogs. Dad said, "Virgil's brother is a special breeder," whatever that meant, and I guess Dad paid beaucoup bucks for Morrigan. She was half grown when we got her, already trained and stuff. I didn't go, that day, to the farm that they picked her up from. But I loved Morry from the start, and she loved me. She thinks I'm one of her puppies, lol, except she's never had any. Except for my friend Grace, and my love bunny, (hee hee diary don't tell anyone that I still have him) Morry is my best friend. It's funny, Dad and Mom said they would always be around to protect me. Like something might be coming. Who knows, they act totally paranoid sometimes. Parents are so weird. But Morrigan is really smart, though, the best dog in the world, and I love her.

Like this one day. I was home alone. I was about 10 years old. Dad was at the shop, closing up, and Mom wasn't home from work yet. A guy came to the door, like, just delivering a package. I had to open the door and sign, so I did. Morry came and crouched down on the floor by my feet. I had to sign the sheet while she growled at the man. I think the guy almost peed his pants (lol diary!) because Morrigan made such a horrible noise. It was our new Playstation 6 for my birthday (WOOT) but I think the FedEx dude was about ready for a new set of underwear lololol. When Dad got home, I told him what happened, and he gave Morry a treat and said, "Morry is a good girl." When Dad gave her the treat, Morry rolled on her back and let us rub her tummy. I said, Dad, why is she so fired up about strangers, but to me, she is just like a big furry blanket, lol. And Dad said, "She knows what her job is," which I thought was pretty cool. She doesn't freak out about Grace, either, just slobbers on her hand. And Grace likes dogs, so it's cool.

My Mom is an analyst for the C.I.A., but what she analyzes, I have no idea. It sounds completely fudging boring. I know that she's supposed to be looking for the things terrorists talk about, so she can keep our country safe. But I have no idea how or what. I guess I'm not supposed to know. All I know is, that on "take your daughter to work day," Mom could only bring me to the cafeteria for lunch. She introduced me to some of her work friends, whatever. Adults, nice people, I guess, but all they could talk about is my hair. I have really bright red hair, diary, and it's so embarrassing. I asked Mom if I could dye it black this year, but she said no. I asked her why and she got that funny look she gets when she needs to go hide in the bathroom with the door shut. So I said, whatever, it's just hair. Dad patted me on the head, said I did a good job at being mature. So I got my iPad4 and went to play Temple Run 5. Whatever, I don't know why she gets so upset. At least she let me pierce my ears this year.

Now, diary, Dad's work is TOTALLY different. It's not like Mom's. I can come and go, in fact, a lot of afternoons, after school, I ride the bus home, feed Morry, and grab a PB&J, and then Morry and I walk to Dad's shop. He is the sole owner and proprietor of "PQ Firearms" and you should see the cool new sign he's had hung since last fall, when the shop started to do really good, much bigger than the old sign. Dad and Mom don't talk about money, but I know Dad's business is doing well, because he bought the other half of the building he started the shop in, and turned it from a sewing type shop thingie into a shooting range. And diary THAT's what is so cool, I can't wait to tell you.

After school on regular days, now that I'm big enough to ride the bus, then walk, Morry and I can go to Dad's shop after work. I come right in and give Dad a big hug, he pats Morry, and then I sit on the stool next to the cash register. I love Dad's shop. It's clean and smells good, like fresh wood and gun oil. I know all the regular customers now, people who come in for a sight to be calibrated, ladies who come in for a lesson and to flirt with Dad (Ha, if they only know how hopeless that was, lolol), and little old men who want to chitchat about the Vietnam war. Lol. Dad is nice to them all, and he has taught me to run the old-school cash register. You should see this thing. It has buttons, a bell that rings, tabs that pop up and I have to calculate change myself lol. But Dad has me do it, and then checks me. The old men call me "Franny-bananny" and they love it when I ring them up, while Morry sits by my feet with her tongue hanging. One day a week, Dad teaches me gun safety and takes me to the range in back, now, the expanded range in the new building, and it's soooo cool. He's showing me how to shoot a 22 semi. It's a small gun, and I like it, though it freaked me out at first. It's cool though. I never liked dolls, or dresses, or really anything girly. Dad says, "You're your mother's daughter." That made me happy, though, diary. I can't tell you how much. Sometimes Mom goes to the range and shoots with us, but not too often. Still, I know he's right.

Dad started this business when I was just a baby. I don't know what he used to do, before the shop, but I guess, who cares. Dad is my hero. I know most kids feel this way about their Dad, but for my Dad it is totally true, even now I'm almost a teenager (Haha!). Dad is amazing. He knows how to shoot, sight in weapons, fight, load, clean, and field strip almost any gun known to man; automatic weapons, even. He has them in the shop, but he doesn't let me touch those. He's good at this stuff. I guess that's why when he quit his old job, whatever that was, he decided to open a gun shop.

I can almost remember the day the shop opened. I was so little that we didn't have Morry yet, and I had to hold Mom's hand. But I saw the man standing on a ladder, holding the new sign, hanging it up, and the gold and black lettering, like from an Old West movie from Turner Classic Movies, lol, in the glass windows:

PQ Firearms

Pistols – Rifles – Ammo – Accessories

Shooting range – Lessons by appointment only

Mom was really happy, and I remember her hair was so golden in the sun. Dad used the big scissors the chamber of commerce guy brought to cut the store ribbon. Then, Dad kissed Mom. Thinking back, I'm surprised I don't have a baby sister or brother, the same age as the store, because they were so happy. I guess that's gross, though, diary. But I think it's nice when parents are happy, even though they get up to, ewwww, let's not talk about it, lol. Most of my friends' parents are divorced, and my family's not. I'm so glad that has never happened to us.

I don't worry about that with my Mom and Dad, really. Honestly, Diary (and Mr. R, if you're still reading this far, you big sneak) I've never seen two people happier to be together than my Mom and Dad. I am not really Dad's biological child, which I guess everybody knows. I mean, if you look at us, it's like, duh. Dad has brown hair and Mom is blonde. My hair is bright red, and one time when one of the neighbors gave my Dad crap about me being a literal "red-headed stepchild", Dad looked like he wanted to punch him in the throat. Mom was there, which I think was lucky for the guy, because she grabbed his wrist. She reminded Dad that the guy had a few beers, and it was our Redskins tailgate party, after all. So, Dad cooled it. He didn't like talking to that neighbor dude after that, though.

The reason is, I guess, that I'm not his bio-kid. I know that, and he knows that, but I don't care. I suppose Dad and Mom had a hard time before me, but I don't know how or what. I guess it doesn't matter. The only thing I know for sure is that when I was 4, Dad and Mom got married. And then when I was six, Dad adopted me. Dad and Mom decided that my name would stay the same, I guess, since I was 6 and had already learned how to write it. But I don't think anyone has any doubt, in any important way, that I'm anything but I'm Mom and Dad's kid. The way things look, I'll be the only child. That's ok, though, because nobody steals my stuff, lololol, diary.

Tonight is taco night. I'm big enough to help. Instead of going to the store, I'll help Dad and Mom by opening the refried beans and microwaving them, getting out the shredded cheese, and sautéing the ground turkey. I'm lucky to have a nice family. Morry keeps me company. But honestly, diary, life is pretty boring. I wish my Mom and Dad would take more vacations and take me more places, like Florida or California. I can't WAIT to get old enough to go to college. But Dad and Mom both say they want my red hair where they can see it.

They sit on the couch at night, watching me work on my advanced algebra homework, Dad's arm around her shoulder. I got accelerated in math, in 3rd grade, and my teachers say I'm going far, whatever that means, lol. Sometimes I get nervous about that, but when I look back at Dad and Mom on the couch, she with her laptop open to some weird problem, and Dad with his copy of Guns & Ammo, I know that no matter how nervous I get, they're going to help me. So, it will be ok.

I'll write more tomorrow, diary. I hope this is the beginning of a long relationship. But if not, I hope it's enough to get extra credit! Lolol

Love,

Franny M.


End file.
